


Okay, I guess.

by HowWeGotHere



Series: Mixed Fandom Prompt Writing [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluffy? Maybe? I’m not sure?, Or maybe I’m just bad at tagging, Spoilers for S4 of WTNV and before, hard to tag, i think, nice., set somewhere in s4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:08:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28732452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowWeGotHere/pseuds/HowWeGotHere
Summary: This is Maureen/Michelle.Because there ain’t enough of those two here.Also, if you click on the series button, you’ll find some Cobra Kai.And if you aren’t part of that, it won’t make much sense and may be potentially triggering.I think this work is Okay.Thank you.
Relationships: Maureen/Michelle Nguyen (Welcome to Night Vale)
Series: Mixed Fandom Prompt Writing [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106375
Kudos: 4





	Okay, I guess.

**Author's Note:**

> This is Maureen/Michelle.  
> Because there ain’t enough of those two here.  
> Also, if you click on the series button, you’ll find some Cobra Kai.  
> And if you aren’t part of that, it won’t make much sense and may be potentially triggering.
> 
> I think this work is Okay.
> 
> Thank you.

The door was open when she came in.  
Maureen looked annoyed, then her face flicked into neutral, which was essentially grinning for them two.  
“Get out o- Oh, hi Maureen.”  
Her face hosted a ghost of a smile, her short, dark hair swaying with every step, because hair bands and hair ties were too popular to use.   
“Michelle.”  
Her name was like... a something on her lips.  
Not a prayer or a wish or a song.  
Something else entirely, that wasn’t so mainstream, and something she personally thought was nicer.  
Maureen hated her job. And most of her life. And most of the people in it.  
But Michelle was okay, she guessed.  
Michelle hated the requirements (listen to other people’s bad musics tastes, raise the staff from the mud, order some okay music and a lot of bad music for the store and a bunch of other stuff) for her job. She hated most of the people in her town, hating her friends most of the time as well. But Maureen.. Maureen was different. Somehow, she was.. good. Not trendy, not an easy come, easy go type of thing. She was Maureen. Her Maureen.

Love is mainstream.  
Overdone.  
Of limited value.  
But it was nice to be in love, even if it was sooo well, all time.  
So forever.

They sit, listening to whatever good music they have found recently at the back, not to far away from the people who “Didn’t make closing time.” The best music that they like is government-enforced hypnotic pulses and specific subliminal messages hidden within static, whimpers and chanting. Today Maureen told her that an agent from a Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency had told her that those recordings had been only recently theorised about, yesterday in fact, and they weren’t going to be made or tested for a few more years, so how did they get them and how well did they respond to re-education, in case anything unsavoury emerged from their hearing of the currently uninvented audio.   
Maureen told Michelle that then the puppy she had to look after a lot had turned the agent into a breathing stranger.  
Chad had shrugged when she pointed.

After they listen, it takes a while for them to refocus. Their eyelids droop, their bodies sag. They chant and they are completely out of there. Eventually, once the recording has been off for a while, one of them will snap awake the other, preferably by pouring jelly mix on their nose, as is custom at Dark Owl Records. It is one day, when Michelle is dotting jelly mix on Maureen’s nose, that she feels love. The first time that she can remember. Love. She hates it, shrugs it off, and she ignores it. But she feels it.

One day, Maureen leans in and kisses Michelle.  
It’s not a passionate thing of tongue and grappling.  
It’s a no bullshit thing of dry lips to other dry lips.  
Michelle looked at her. Maureen looked back.  
“Are you going to make me say it?” She asked, her voice dry and slightly sarcastic, and Michelle likes this.  
This humanity.  
“No.” Michelle said, her voice smooth, because her anxiety has never made her shaky.  
Not like that at least.  
She leant in herself, because now she actually wants to feel, to feel some of Maureen in her sea of static, in her mess of empty.  
Maureen’s lips are dry.  
Warm.  
Their tongues met hesitantly, and then they gently explore some of each other’s mouths, and Michelle is happy.  
And disappointed in herself.  
In fact, double disappointed because she felt two emotions that were so common, happy and disappointed.  
But she loves the kiss.  
It’s okay, she guesses.

Maureen had not been the type to forever dance around or to just jump right in.  
So kissing Michelle, just a tap of their lips, their eyes meeting, seemed like a good to state that.  
But what she was doing then.. it was.. good.  
Nice.  
‘Neat’ as her former boss would put it.

When Michelle sees Maureen, it’s like the world approves. The unlikely thing they found is commonish, but rare.  
So rare.  
The world rarely approves of these things, especially out of Night Vale.  
Nothing changes exactly, the weather still goes through questionable phases, and they still hate the world.  
But they like each other.

Michelle’s door is open.

Her metaphorical door is too.

That’s more than what Maureen thought she would find.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you guys think?


End file.
